


After Hours Job

by Zerotaste



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25762810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerotaste/pseuds/Zerotaste
Summary: Chikage doesn't have to check the number to know who it is, pressing answer he jams the phone between his ear and shoulder as he descends the ladder. He wasn't supposed to have work tonight but at least tomorrow is the weekend and he’s not going to be going into the office on no sleep. Not that he hasn’t done that many times in the past. It should be a quick job any way. Back up. He'll receive more precise details via a secure message shortly but being called in like this never ties him up for too long. He either arrives in time and quickly fixes the mistakes the others have made or it was already too late by the time he was called; another previously in use name will be handed to an in training agent to take their place.
Relationships: Chigasaki Itaru/Utsuki Chikage
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43
Collections: ChikaIta Week 2020





	After Hours Job

**Author's Note:**

> For chikaita day 5 - Double Life
> 
> Someone does get killed, they're an un-named agent who just exists in the fic to be killed

0337, vibrating on the bed beside him distrubs his shallow sleep. At one vibration it could simply be Itaru's phone notifying him that his stamina has refreshed in one of the many games he plays but as it continues he knows his own phone is the culprit.

It doesn’t take much effort to escape the limbs tangled with his own. Itaru likes to cling to him as though he's afraid of him disappearing but in his sleep, his already low strength is even more laughable. As a mumbled string of nonsense leaves Itaru's lips he takes a moment to glance at his sleeping face, phone screen partially illuminating his peaceful expression. Itaru is a piece of normalcy in a very non-conventional life, something he shouldn't have. It's selfish, reckless and dangerous. Yet it’s something that for as long as he’s allowed to remain Utsuki Chikage, he’s allowing himself to have.

Chikage doesn't have to check the number to know who it is, pressing answer he jams the phone between his ear and shoulder as he descends the ladder. He wasn't supposed to have work tonight but at least tomorrow is the weekend and he’s not going to be going into the office on no sleep. Not that he hasn’t done that many times in the past. It should be a quick job any way. Back up. He'll receive more precise details via a secure message shortly but being called in like this never ties him up for too long. He either arrives in time and quickly fixes the mistakes the others have made or it was already too late by the time he was called; another previously in use name will be handed to an in training agent to take their place.

It’s always quiet at the hideout these days, but he doesn’t dwell on that, throwing his keys on the dusty table before he goes for the closet. Initially he'd kept so many of his belongings here because he never truly intended to move into the dorms. Now it’s out of safety, even though slowly he accumulates items that make his side of the room look more lived in, he could never bring his entire life there. Unlocking a combination lock without even having to watch his hand’s movements, he pulls from the safe what he'll need. Holsters, a knife, two small guns, bullets, he shouldn't even need those if this goes smoothly. Long fingers contemplate vials and syringes, the last remaining batches of weapons August had created. They could potentially be very useful tonight, but using them would be another part of him that’s gone.

Gearing up is a ritual for him. Even after a couple of years of mostly research and online work he finds himself falling into the same motions. Arms through the straps of the shoulder holster, belt through the bottom securing it in place. Tight against his thigh he moves to secure the straps that will hold his knife and second gun in place. Ear piece next, then boots.

Checking his weapons are secure he reaches up to his ear, pressing and holding a button until he hears a beeping sound. Connected.

"April here, I'm ready to head out." Adjusting his gloves he stops on his way out to take one key off the keyring. "Let's make this quick I want to be done by sunrise."

\----

Blood, heavy splashes of it leading a path up a hallway and around a corner. Very fresh too. He doesn’t hold out much hope for whoever’s wound it’s flowing from and gritting his teeth he can only hope it’s not from their side. Hand travelling to his thigh he pops open the flap over the gun. While he’s hoping the agents he’s been sent to help aren’t in this bad of a state, if it’s the other option then he’s going to need to put them out of their misery.

Keeping his footsteps as silent as possible he brings the gun into position, safely off and finger ready to move to the trigger at the first sign of an enemy. Straining his ears he listens for any hint of just how close the poor bastard who’s blood is decorating the hallway is. Nothing, not even the tell tale shallow breaths of someone mortally wounded. They’ve made amazing ground, are very well trained or already dead.

Gun first he rounds the corner, preparing for fire as he does so. When none comes there’s relief, whatever turn things had taken since he’d gotten sent the details is a mystery. The agents inside have had their communications jammed and it’s something that has likely happened to his own as well now that he’s inside the building. At the end of the hallway a lump of black fabric resides near to a door and upon sight his blood runs cold. He may not know this agent but he recognises the coat style. Not all of them create family units the way his own group had, not all of them even get along with those they’re assigned to work with but he already knows that someone will be waiting in the morning for a partner who won’t return. Someone will have to continue on as though nothing’s happened, not even allowed to mourn as their partner’s work joins their own workload. Someone will have to go through what he has.

Blood pools around the figure. Checking the surrounding area he confirms they’re alone before crouching down to take in the damage and get an idea of what he’s up against. Somewhere in here is one more agent and if he doesn’t want tonight to end a complete disaster he needs to know everything he can get. The chances of them still being able to speak even if they are still hanging onto life are low but it’s worth a try.

At least two gunshot wounds to the abdomen, blunt force to the head blood dripping over an eye that he highly doubts would work anymore even if it could be opened. Despite this, he’s alive. Just. His breaths are shallow and quiet, Chikage knows if he had a choice right now he’d have ended things himself, like they’ve been trained to do but a quick look at the empty holsters on the man reveals his weapons have been taken and either he wasn’t equipped with a suicide drug or that too has been removed. The idea that he may have been betrayed has bile rising in the back of his throat but he forces it down. Sometimes things just take a turn like this, not everything is due to traitors, not every case is like his own.

“Ple…ase.” It’s quiet, whimpered, desperate.

He knows what he’s begging for.

“Before I do, is there anything you can tell me.” He tightens his grip on his gun, he’d hoped things wouldn’t turn out like this tonight.

“Through… door.” Speaking must be agony for him. “Third on left, interrogation… four men…”

Running over his words he starts to formulate a plan. Four men of a skilled enough calibre to take out an organisation trained agent. It’s not like it will be impossible for him but it certainly won’t be easy.

“Thank you.” He gives the most reassuring smile he can before standing.

As he brings his gun to the man’s forehead his eyes fall closed and he swears he hears the man utter back his thanks as he pulls the trigger.

\----

Hair still damp from showering he pauses in front of the door to room 103. Sun having begun its ascent into the sky already he’s a little surprised he hasn’t run into Tasuku on his way back from a morning run. Surprised and relieved, tonight had not been the mission he’d thought it would be. Although he’s long been numbed to taking out those in his way, there’s still a little too much human left in him to stay completely unaffected by putting someone from his side out of their misery. Dragging all that back here, to Itaru who only has to worry about someone managing to figure out the dots between his online and work identities is out of the question. No matter how much the company says he’s welcome here and belongs, he knows he can’t be part of this world for too long. This is just fulfilling a selfish whim of his, he should have left after he’d found out the truth about August’s death.

Cutting his thoughts off there very purposefully and shelving them in a place he knows he can’t access he reaches for the door handle.

“Morning Senpai.” Itaru’s voice calls out lazily, eyes only leaving his phone for a second as Chikage fakes a smile. Still on the bed they’d shared last night, phone held horizontally in his hands, Itaru hasn’t even bothered to put on a shirt.

“Morning Chigasaki.” As he takes off his shoes and steps into the room the question of which life currently is his real one plays on his mind. He’ll never get rid of the instincts of a spy and reflexes of a killer but the longer he spends here, the softer he’s getting.

One day he’ll get the call to pack up and move somewhere else. Perhaps back to the headquarters to learn another language and take on another long term identity where he’ll try not to repeat the same mistakes he has this time. Letting himself continue to make that mistake he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up before ascending the ladder to where Itaru still lays.

“Coming back to bed?” Itaru comments as he rolls over enough for Chikage to have space beside him. “Who are you and what did you do to Senpai?”

As Itaru’s head lands on his shoulder, one of his own arms sneaks under his warm body and around his soft waist. In his head he repeats some of those words back to himself. _Who is he indeed?_

**Author's Note:**

> This is expanded on from a short thing I wrote 5h1take, why I decided to expand a fic from Chikage's pov I'll never know, that's why it's still so short lol.


End file.
